


Heard You Were A Wild One

by kay_emm_gee



Series: Bellarke Fic Week: February 2015 [6]
Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/M, Fluff, Horses, meet cute
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-20
Updated: 2015-02-20
Packaged: 2018-03-13 20:52:20
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,960
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3395954
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kay_emm_gee/pseuds/kay_emm_gee
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Day 6: 'You're Beautiful'</p><p>Years after her father dies, Clarke is still reluctant to return to her grandparents’ horse ranch because of her memories of summers spent there with him, but a chance encounter with a feisty horse introduces her to someone who might make her stay worth the while</p>
            </blockquote>





	Heard You Were A Wild One

The moon hung low in the sky, bathing everything in a shimmering dark grey glow as Clarke wandered down the dirt road. Her boots kicked up dust, which swirled in the dry, hot air before clinging to her bare legs. Counting the fence posts to her left and right, Clarke tried to keep her mind from wandering. Being back at her grandparents’ horse ranch stirred up old memories, both sweet and painful. Until she was twelve, she had spent almost every summer here. So many months of her life had consisted of running through the tree-spotted foothills, splashing around in the local waterways, and riding to her heart’s content. Her parents would come visit for a few weeks at the end of the summer, and Clarke’s favorite part was the time she got to share here with her father.

When she had started middle school, though, the pull of friends, hanging out at the mall, and crushing on boys that worked at the local movie theater grew stronger than the feel of a cantering horse beneath her or the way the desert smelled after a rainstorm. So she stopped coming, spending the long summer months working at the theater or the town’s ice cream shop instead. After sophomore year, when her father had died, coming back to her grandparents’ ranch seemed even more impossible. His memory was too visceral here, in the place where they had both grown up.

Then her grandfather had fallen ill the winter of her junior year of college, and her mother had insisted they go visit, at least for a few weeks before Clarke started her hospital volunteer internship. It was so hard being back here, but the sentimental smiles on her grandparents’ faces when they saw her out and about on the ranch made the pain of missing her father almost bearable.

Somewhere far away, a coyote howled faintly into the night. Clarke shivered, because a sound that haunting never failed to make her hackles rise, even if there was no actual threat of danger from it. Anxiously, she folded her arms across her chest, tucking her hands into the outrageously long sleeves of her father’s tattered university sweatshirt. The hem hung low on her short frame, almost falling below her cutoff jean shorts. Every edge of it was frayed, because she wore it almost every day. The night was a little too warm to be wearing it, but with her father’s ghost lurking around every corner here, Clarke needed it as armor to steel herself against the bittersweet reminders of happier times.

As the wind whipped up and caused the underbrush to rustle loudly, Clarke heard the echo of angry hoof beats from up ahead. Snorts and distressed whinnying followed. Breaking into a jog, Clarke ran down the road, only slowing when she saw a bright shadow zigzagging back and forth across one of the paddocks. The horse, a quarter horse if Clarke could still guess correctly after all of these years, was a golden streak flashing across the black night, cream mane tossing wildly in the warm breeze.

“Hey, hey, pretty girl,” Clarke whispered soothingly. “It’s just a little wind.”

The horse shook her head violently, bobbing it up and down as she pawed frantically at the ground. Pushing off, she darted a bit closer to the fence where Clarke was now leaning. The horse’s wide dark eyes gleamed in the moonlight, warily assessing her new guest. Smiling, Clarke pushed her tangled hair back from her sunburned face before digging in her pocket for the ever-present horse treats. Holding one out on a flat palm, she clicked her tongue, trying to draw the wild thing in.

“C’mon, girl. I got something for you, see?”

After a few hesitant rounds of mane tossing and anxious pacing, the horse approached Clarke and the treat with caution. When she finally nibbled at snack, Clarke had to suppress a giggle at the tickle of whiskers against her hand. The horse continued to lip her palm even after she had finished chewing, snorting and sniffing as she learned Clarke’s scent.

Slowly, Clarke curled her fingers under the horses chin, giving her a very gentle scratch. “You’re beautiful,” she whispered reverently.

The horse nickered calmly, seeming to settle into Clarke’s touch. With deliberate, cautious movement, Clarke leaned forward, ensuring to maintain eye contact with the beauty in front of her. Pressing a soft kiss to the bridge of her nose, Clarke smiled, breathing in the dusty, musty scent that was her childhood.

“Hey!” A loud, angry, low voice called out from behind her, causing the horse to startle beneath her. Her muzzle jerked up, connecting hard with Clarke’s chin, sending her flying butt-first to the ground.

As the horse took off across the paddock again, Clarke groaned, feeling sharp pains shoot through her tailbone and up her back. Twisting around, she glared angrily at the guy jogging up to her. His dark freckled face was set with lines of frustrated concern, and wayward brown curls peaked out from beneath a faded blue backwards baseball cap.

“What the hell do you think you were doing with her?” He asked huffily, extending a large calloused hand to help her up.

Scrambling to stand without his help, thank you very much, Clarke brushed dirt from her sweatshirt before looking up at him defiantly. “What the hell were you doing? You’re the one who scared her off yelling like that!”

“You were about to get a large chunk of your nose bitten off, that’s why I yelled. She’s the meanest horse on this ranch,” he ground out, crossing his large arms across his broad chest, his T-shirt pulled taught with the movement.

“Well, it must depend on who she’s around, because she was an absolute sweetheart with me,” Clarke responded loftily.

“Princess? Please. She’s a spoiled brat. Deserving of the name,” he muttered, throwing a disapproving glare at the still-riled animal.

 _So this was Princess._ Clarke’s throat closed up as she turned to watch the horse canter wildly back and forth across the paddock, wild gold-white mane glinting in the moonlight. The summer after her father had died, her grandparents had called and said his horse had been put out to stud and had sired a filly. They had named her Princess. It was fitting, they had said, to bestow her father’s nickname for her on his horse’s offspring. At the time, she had refused to even look at pictures of the thing and after a while, she had forgotten about her. Now, as Clarke watched the horse tear across the field with a fierce energy, she wished she hadn’t been so stubborn back them.

“She’s beautiful,” Clarke whispered, trying to hold tears back and failing miserably.

“Hey,” the guy said with surprise as he took in her pained expression. “Are you hurt? That was a hard fall you took. Let me—”

“I’m fine,” Clarke said, clearing her throat. She waved him off with a floppy sleeve, shaking her head.

After a few seconds of contemplative silence, he said, “I’m Bellamy, by the way. I work nights here as a ranch hand.”

“Clarke,” she replied, glancing his way briefly and almost letting out a watery laugh as she watched his eyes widened in recognition at the name.

“Shit. I didn’t know you were Helen and Joe’s granddaughter. I’m sorry,” he finished sheepishly, shoulders hunching slightly as he tucked his hands into his pockets.

“Don’t worry,” she said evenly. “I won’t complain to them about you until the morning.”

She let him sit with the worry for a few seconds before breaking into a loud giggle, turning to look at him in amusement.

“Real funny,” Bellamy muttered darkly, but a slow grin eventually worked its way onto his face.

“My father’s horse was her sire. She was supposed to be mine, if I ever came back here,” Clarke said suddenly to distract herself from the things his warm, devastating smile was doing to her insides.

Bellamy didn’t say a word, but his expression softened in understanding. And, from the ghostly pain in his eyes, Clarke realized she probably wasn’t the only one of them who had lost a parent.

“She’s a wild thing,” he remarked after a while. “Gives the ranch hands a hell of a time. Barely anyone can manage riding her. Always wants to go five speeds faster than she should.”

“Maybe they should let her,” Clarke replied, sliding a sly glance at him.

Bellamy let out a low chuckle. “How did I know you were going to say that?”

Smiling, Clarke went to punch him lightly on the shoulder, but he caught her fist in his warm hand before she connected. His skin was rough against hers, the texture sending currents up her arm. As she stared into his dark eyes that danced with mirth, warmth built in her chest and her stomach flipped as something hotter began to flame in his glance.

“You should get back up to the house,” Bellamy said as he slowly released her hand. It still tingled from where his strong fingers had gripped her wrist, so she shoved her hands into the sweatshirt’s front pouch. Ducking her head, she felt her cheeks flame up in embarrassment.

“Yeah,” she mumbled. “My mom is probably looking for me.”

Turning away, she walked quickly back up the road with sure steps. Only, when Bellamy called out a _good night, princess_ in a teasing voice, she stupidly tripped over her own feet. Hearing him chuckle behind her, she whipped around, lips pursed in annoyance, and gave him the finger. At that, he broke out into full laughter, and she joined in briefly before waving goodbye and running back up the dirt drive.

* * *

Clarke didn’t see Bellamy again before she and her mother left the ranch, but the memory of his fingers on her wrist and the sound of his laugh stayed with her in the weeks after. Several times she swore she heard him in the hospital, but every time she ran after the familiar voice, it wasn’t him. She felt crazy, because it was just a stupid crush, and she was sure he had forgotten about her by now. Still, as Clarke sorted through hospital linens and chatted with the nurses, she couldn’t quite stop imaging what it would feel like to run her fingers through his thick hair, or to feel his lips pressed heatedly against hers.

* * *

When, at the end of the summer, Clarke told her mother she was leaving her internship a week early to spend some more time with her grandparents before school started, Abby was astonished but nonetheless pleased. Excitement built inside Clarke as her departure date neared, but as soon as she was on the plane it soured, dipping into worry and mortification. What the hell was she doing, using a visit to her grandparents as an excuse to see some guy whom she’d spent twenty minutes with? By the time she arrived, she was nauseous with guilt, which intensified when her grandparents greeted her with bear hugs and smacking kisses. Clarke barely said a word the entire drive back to the ranch, and she shut herself in her room when they got home. Flopping on her bed, she stared dejectedly at the ceiling, trying to calm her wild emotions. She should go out, take a hike, do something to work off the energy, but instead she closed her eyes and counted her breaths.

Sometime later, when Clarke opened her eyes again, it was dark out. Jerking up, she saw a plate of food on the nightstand. The chicken was cold, but she wolfed down the sandwich anyways. After, she pulled on her father’s sweatshirt and crept down the hall, trying not to wake her grandparents as she snuck out. As she headed for the paddocks, it took all of her resolve not to run down the dirt drive.

Halfway there, she picked up the sound of rapid hoof beats, as well as a low voice murmuring and clicking. Her breath hitched, because he sounded just like she had remembered. With slow steps, she approached Princess’s paddock, not being able to hold back a smile as she saw Bellamy.

He was in the center of the paddock, a long training crop in one hand and a lead line clutched in the other. Princess was on the opposite end of the line, prancing around the paddock in a hurried circle. Whenever she would adjust her speed, or side step out of line, Bellamy would flick the crop and click out the side of his mouth, muttering half-hearted, affectionate reprimands. Clarke watched in amusement as the two challenged each other, laughing at his exasperated expression and Princess’s brash little rebellions.

When she reached the fence line, Princess jerked her head in Clarke’s direction, letting out a loud whinny. Rearing slightly, she jerked the line out of Bellamy’s hand and cantered across the paddock to where Clarke was standing.

“Hey, pretty girl,” Clarke said with a laugh as the horse roughly nosed her, looking for treats. “I got something for you, don’t worry.”

Feeding Princess some treats, she didn’t take her eyes off the horse until heavy footsteps approached and Bellamy said wryly, “You know, you shouldn’t reward her for bad behavior.”

Looking up, Clarke grinned as she took in his pleased expression. “She was just excited to see me. Can’t blame her for that.”

“No,” Bellamy replied slowly as he leaned his forearms against the fence, staring at her with serious, intense eyes. “I can’t say I do. And she’s not the only one who’s glad you’re back.”

Blushing, Clarke turned back to Princess, who was pawing indignantly at the ground. “Yes, yes, I’m paying attention to you, I promise. You’re such a pretty girl, yes. You’re beautiful,” she murmured against the bridge of the horse’s noise, getting a mouth full of hair for her trouble, because Princess wouldn’t stop shaking her head.

Bellamy laughed as Clarke sputtered, trying to clean off her lips. With a smug smile, he leaned closer to her and whispered, “Here, let me help with that.”

Then he titled his head and kissed her, lips moving soft and slow. Pressing against the fence rail, Clarke leaned into him, resting a sleeve-covered hand against his neck. Soon, his fingers were running through her messy hair as he cupped the back of her head, keeping her mouth moving against his. Content with where she was, Clarke didn’t pull away, letting Bellamy deepen the kiss by pressing her mouth open with his tongue. Heat flared in her stomach, and she hummed happily, bringing up her other hand to rest against his chest. His rapid heartbeat thrummed under her small fingers, and she smiled, causing him to break off the kiss with a chuckle.

“You’re beautiful, princess,” he whispered.

“Thanks,” she replied cheerfully.

Raising his eyebrows, Bellamy said, with a barely suppressed smile, “I was talking to the horse, you know.”

“Shut up,” Clarke exclaimed, another laugh rolling off of her lips. “Let’s not make her vain, now.”

At that, Princess nosed her way between the two of them, clearly not impressed with the lack of attention being paid to her. Bellamy ruffled her mane affectionately with a wide grin. “It may be too late for that. This one is a needy little thing.”

“Is that why you’ve been training her?” Clarke asked neutrally, trying to hide her curiosity.

“Something like that,” Bellamy replied, shooting her a soft look.

Clarke smiled at him, then asked, “Can I try?”

Nodding, Bellamy collected the lead line at his feet and walked out to the center of the ring. Clarke followed, watching as he guided Princess back out to the edge of the paddock with flicks of the crop.

“Alright,” Bellamy said, stepping up behind her. Wrapping one arm around her waist, he used the other one to hand her the lead line. “Keep it long enough to extend to the fence, but don’t give her too much slack, or she’ll take advantage of it. You hold the line, I’ll keep the crop, and we’ll see how well we can get her moving.”

Clarke cleared her throat in agreement, words lost at the distracting feel of his front against her back. With a sharp flip of the crop and a quick double-click of his tongue, Bellamy got Princess going. It was a bit awkward at first, standing in his embrace as they rotated in the center of the ring to follow the horse’s movements. She stepped on his feet more than once as they shuffled around, murmuring apologies as she did. Bellamy didn’t seem to mind, just gave her hip tight squeezes in response. Eventually, they developed a good pattern of moving, talking and laughing as they got to know each other a bit better under the glow of a large summer moon.

When Princess had finally had enough training for the night, they brushed her down and set her loose in the paddock. Then they retreated to the fence, Bellamy leaning back against it and pulling Clarke into him, his arms wrapped tightly around her middle. Tipping her head back onto his shoulder, she relaxed into his embrace, smiling at Princess trotting excitedly around the field.

“She’s still a wild one,” Clarke observed as she traced random circles on Bellamy’s forearms with her fingers.

Leaning down, Bellamy kissed the side her neck, whispering against her heated skin, “Can’t you tell by now? I like the wild ones.”

Clarke laughed, turning in his arms to press her lips to his in a searing kiss, happy that, at least for the moment, she had found something—someone—to make her feel alive in this place again.

**Author's Note:**

> I stopped horseback riding ages ago, so if there were any mistakes, I apologize...but damn, writing this made me miss it a lot :)
> 
> Come find me on tumblr!! (kay-emm-gee)


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